Summoners, Arise!
by TheHunter747
Summary: When Harry first heard of the magical world, he didn't expect it to be real. But now he finds even more truths about himself, and must deal with enemies both obvious and hidden. Balancing Hogwarts and interspecies politics is never going to be easy, but can he even survive? AU as of the trip to Diagon Alley. Crossover with pretty much every Final Fantasy game ever.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! I've hit a serious wall of writer's block in my other stories right now, but after playing FFIII - that's Final Fantasy 3, for you uninitiated plebs out there - I got bitten by this rabid plot Bahamut. Dragon bites hurt, you know, so to get him off me, I agreed that this must be written. Harry learns summoning, and let's just pray that the magical world is standing at the end of it all! There will be some characters from various Final Fantasys, but no Cloud, Tidus - by the way, how do you pronounce that? Tee-dus? Tie-dus? Ah, who cares? - and no Tifa. Those three just irritate me, so rather than write them in and end up having people complain about me bashing their characters, I'm leaving them out. Make up your own story as to why they aren't there.

* * *

Harry's head was spinning. All day, Hagrid had been taking him round Diagon Alley in London, helping him buy things he would need when he went to Hogwarts. And wasn't that a kick in the teeth? He, Harry Potter, the freak from Privet Drive, was going to a school of magic, where there were others just like him! For the first time in his life, he wouldn't be 'that weird kid with the ugly glasses', and maybe he would even be able to make friends while he was there.

"Righ' then, 'Arry. You go an' get yer wand, while I nip off fer a minute. There's summat I need ter get quickly. Wand shop's just over there."

Looking at the shop Hagrid pointed out, Harry nodded to the giant man, before heading towards the wand shop. A sign over the entrance read 'Ollivanders - Makers of fine wands since 382 BC'. Harry wasn't sure if the shop had really been open that long, but thinking about it, he decided that maybe the whole family made wands, and had done for hundreds of years. He didn't really care though, too obsessed with the fact that he was finally going to get his own wand, and be able to use magic like a real wizard did.

Entering the shop, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something in this building seemed to feel...odd, was the best way he could describe it. Not in a bad way, though. Stepping up to the counter, Harry rang the fragile looking bell that sat on the ancient desk. Both looked as though they had been there since 382 BC, he thought idly, looking around at the stacks upon stacks of long, thin boxes - he assumed they contained wands - all of which seemed to be covered in a light coating of dust, or powder.

"Ah, yes. Mr Potter. I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

Harry jumped slightly. While he had been staring around, a wispy, wizened old wizard had appeared out of the gloom at the back of the shop, staring at him so intently that it was creeping him out. The old man's eyes were the scariest part of him, Harry thought, as they were silver, with no pupils, just two large orbs of silver, and yet the old man seemed to be able to see just fine. Ollivander - Harry assumed that was his name - smiled at him, and Harry could swear he saw a hint of fangs in the man's mouth, but the old wandmaker closed his mouth quickly after that. Heading over to one of the shelves, Ollivander began pulling various boxes out, before shaking his head and putting them back. He continued to talk the whole time he did this.

"Seems only yesterday, that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands."

"Do wizards have more than one wand, sir?"

"Oh my, yes. No one wizard is a perfect match for a single wand their entire life, after all. No, you should always buy your first wand when you start school, then, once you turn seventeen, and your magic has matured to it's adult stage, you should always buy a new wand. After that, it's advisable, but not strictly necessary, to buy a new wand, or at least have the old one 'tuned up', so to speak, once every thirty-odd years. Ah, here we go!"

Turning round, he made his way back to the desk, opening the box he now held as he did so. Ollivander passed the wand to Harry, who held it in his hand, looking rather confused.

"Well, give it a wave." Blinking - and mentally berating himself - Harry did as instructed, waving the wand in a random direction. Almost immediately, roughly thirty drawers from various filing cabinets flew out from the walls, crashing around the store and making an enormous mess.

"Apparently not." Ollivander sounded put out, but Harry had seen the swiftly-hidden grin on the man's face. Turning to a different shelf, the old wizard climbed a stepladder, rummaging around in another pile of boxes, while Harry gingerly placed the wand back on the desk in front of him, hoping he didn't cause any more damage. The money in his vault could probably pay for all the damages, but then what would he use to pay for school?

"Try...this one." Ollivander handed another wand to Harry, this one made of a lighter wood than the previous wand. Harry took it, and waved it in a different direction. A vase exploded, sending a wave of water all over the floor, and causing the flowers it held to be cut to ribbons by shards of the vase.

"No, no, definitely not!" Ollivander spoke slightly louder this time, but Harry noticed the twinkle that was still in his eye, and had a feeling that Ollivander deliberately didn't give people the right wand the first time, just to see what would happen. This time, the old wandmaker went towards the back of the store, peering intently at the various labels on the boxes, while Harry placed the last wand back on the desk next to the first one he tried. By the time he had done that, Ollivander was making his way back to the front of the store, another box in hand.

"Perhaps this one will be right?"

Harry took the dark-red wand from the man, and a feeling of warmth filled him, the same joy he had felt when Hagrid told him he was a wizard filling him up once again. But there was something else about the wand, something he noticed, without knowing how, even as Mr Ollivander clapped and exclaimed that it was a perfect fit.

"It's not."

"Absolutely per- what? What do you mean, it's not?"

"I don't know, sir, it just doesn't feel...whole. Like a part of it is missing. I don't really know how to explain it any better than that, sir."

Ollivander blinked twice, before taking the wand back, and running his own wand along it's length, frowning occasionally. "I can't seem to find anything wrong with it, young man. But you are the one who will be using the wand. Hmm...perhaps the problem lies with you, young man?"

"M-me? What did I do?"

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this wand is your intended wand, but you also require some alternate focus? It's possible, I've seen many students come in here and experience something like that. It just means that some part of your magic cannot be used by this focus, and is telling you so. In time, if you obtain a proper focus, the feeling will fade, and it will be easier to use one or the other without that distracting feeling."

"Oh. Um, do you know where I can go to get another focus? And what is a focus, anyway?"

"A focus is simply an object used by a magical being to channel their magical energies. Some use wands, some use rings, necklaces, I know that at least one human used a sword to channel his energy. The type of focus really depends on the magical energy being channeled. If it is particularly strong, then a stronger, more robust focus will be needed. Just the same as lifting a heavy object. If you don't have the strength to lift it, the object will never be lifted. As to where to obtain another focus, I am not certain. There are bound to be alternative shops elsewhere, but for the most part, other races forge their own foci. Gringotts would be the best place for you to go, young man."

"Gringotts? The bank? Why?"

"Yes Gringotts, the bank. And as for why, well, they can perform a heritage test to determine what types of magic you have inherited from your family. And since the goblins use different foci to humans, they would be able to advise you best as to where to find your second focus. Now, the price for your wand is seven Galleons, Mr Potter." Harry pulled out his money, and paid Ollivander, taking his wand - and the box it came in - in return. It was only three hours later that Garrick Ollivander would remember why he had given that particular wand to Harry in the first place, and he began fervently hoping that his fears regarding Lord Voldemort will simply misplaced.

* * *

Stepping out of the shop, Harry walked into Hagrid - literally, as the young wizard-to-be was sent sprawling on the cobblestone pavement.

"Oops, sorry 'bout th- 'Arry! Finished up in Ollivanders, then?"

"Yes, Hagrid. But Mr Ollivander said I needed a second focus, so I should go to Gringotts and ask them for help."

"Oh aye? A'right then, 'Arry, let's be on our way. But afore I forget...Happy Birthday!"

Hagrid handed a large cage to Harry, in which a snowy owl with amber eyes sat regally, staring at the messy-haired boy wizard, before something seemed to click in her eyes, and she hooted happily at him, ruffling her wings. Harry finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, looking up at Hagrid in order to stammer out his thanks, sounding rather like Professor Quirrell from earlier.

"Ah, 't weren't nothin', 'Arry. 'Sides, you'll need an owl. Dead useful they are, carry yer mail an' everything. And they make good friends, too."

The newly formed group of three then turned and headed for the large, marble building that served as the wizarding bank, entering through the large, wrought-silver doors for the second time that day, and heading to one of the open tellers.

"Yes?" This goblin seemed even nastier than the first one, Harry thought to himself, as the short being leaned over the desk, sneering down at him.

"Um, Mr Ollivander said I should come and have a heritage test done, to find out what other types of magic I can use, sir."

The goblin's entire demeanour changed almost instantly. "Ah, I see. First one of your family to inherit?"

"Err...I guess so?"

"Not to worry then, young man. If you'll follow me a moment, I'll arrange for the testing." The goblin hopped off his seat, and led Harry, Hagrid, and the new owl through a set of doors cleverly disguised as a wall - Harry could have sworn that they had been a wall before the goblin opened them - before taking them through a series of corridors to a small waiting room, where he left them to - presumably - go find another goblin to perform the test.

"Hagrid? Why did that goblin start treating me so nice when I told him about the heritage test?"

"Don't rightly know, 'Arry. But goblins don' like humans at all. Hate 'em, as a matter o' fact. Probably treated ya better 'cause ya aren' full human, see?"

"Oh. That seems a bit mean, though."

"Aye, it ain't fair, but goblins an' humans 'ave been at each others throats fer centuries, 'Arry. Ya'll learn about it in History class. An' Professor Flitwick, he ain't human at all. Half-goblin, half-dwarf, but don' tell anyone, okay?"

Nodding, Harry promised not to say anything about Professor Flitwick's heritage, silently wondering what the big deal was. The goblin that had shown him and Hagrid to the room reappeared, another goblin walking along behind him, a heavy silver bowl held in his arms. Harry was amazed at the sight, since the bowl looked heavy enough that he would never even be able to lift it, yet the goblin carrying it effortlessly was smaller than him.

"Now then, young man, this is the apparatus needed for the heritage test. Since you are the first in your family to inherit, you will have things explained to you by us, since there are no family members to do so. Should any of your children inherit, it will be your job to teach them about their heritage. Understand so far?"

"Yes sir. What do I need to do?"

"It's very simple. Simply cut your hand with this blade - don't worry, it's been sterilized - and allow seven drops of blood to fall into the silver bowl. Once that is done, we simply sit, and wait. Any magical inheritances you are eligible for will show up. Be aware that only magical cores will show up on this list. Should you wish to trace your physical and financial heritages, that will be a seperate test. Any questions?"

"Um, what exactly is a magical core?"

"It's rather difficult to quantify, however a magical core is, essentially, the source of a person's magic. Different cores exist within a person for different heritages. For example, a half demon, half angel, would have an Angelic magical core, and a Demonic magical core. Incidentally, they would be referred to as a Nephilim, but that isn't important at the moment. Each magical core is only used when that particular branch of magic is being used. For example, a human with a human magical core could use his human core for human magic, but not demonic magic. Is that clearer?"

"Yes sir. Thank you." Harry picked up the blade - an odd, black rock made up the entirety of the knife, and cut his palm with it, allowing seven drops of his blood to fall into the liquid already in the bowl. Sitting back, he put the knife down on the table, and one of the goblins promptly waved a finger at it, cleaning it instantly.

"How did you do that?"

"My personal focus is the ring on my left hand, so I simply cast a cleaning spell silently."

"Oh. So, why did I have to use seven drops of blood? And how will the results be shown?"

"The number seven is the most magically powerful. Any Arithmantic calculation that represents a spell can eventually be reduced to the form 7=7. Otherwise, the spell will not work. At Hogwarts, they don't begin teaching it until third year, and even then it's only an elective. Foolish humans, every one of them. The single most important subject in magic, yet they make it optional? And as for the results, a list of every possible magical core will be shown. Besides each one, there will be a word. The three words are; 'Non-existent', 'Dormant' and 'Active'. They should be rather...self-explanatory, yes?"

Nodding, Harry lapsed into silence, occasionally cooing at his new owl, while trying to think of a good name for her. Hagrid seemed confused, though.

"Wha' exactly do those names mean?"

Sighing, the goblin began explaining. "'Non-existent' is self-explanatory, it simply means that the person does not possess that particular magical core. 'Dormant' means that the person possesses the relevant magical core, but cannot access it. Intense magical trauma can often change the status of a core from 'Dormant' to 'Active'. Additionally, when undergoing ones' magical maturation, it is often the case that a core or two will change from 'Dormant' to 'Active'. It is very rare for anyone to possess more than three magical cores, however. 'Active' simply means that the person possesses the type of core in question, and is able to access it."

A ringing sound emanated throughout the room, seemingly centred on the silver bowl. "Ah, your testing is complete. Well, let's have a look at the results, shall w - Oh my."

Panicking at the tone of the goblin's voice, Harry began asking every question he could think of. "What's wrong? Has something gone wrong with my test results? Do I need to do something else?"

"Calm down, boy. I was simply surprised. I don't often have the priviledge of witnessing the birth of a demigod, after all."

"Demigod? What do you mean?"

"Oh, right, I forget you humans have different definitions of gods and demigods than the rest of us. Gods are deities, pure and simple. Demigods, however, are people, no matter what race, who possess every possible magical core within themselves. Often times, demigods can't access these magical cores, and that is the case here, too."

"Wait, but you said having more than three was impossible!"

"No, I said it was unlikely. And don't get ahead of yourself, boy. You can't even use more than two of them, anyway. The rest are dormant at the moment. Though it will be interesting to see how many are unlocked during your magical maturation."

"Oh. Well, which ones can I use, then?"

"At the moment, you seem to have access to your human magical core, and...well, this is interesting. I haven't heard of one of your kind being born in Britain in over a millenia. You apparently have Summoner blood in you, young lord."

"What's a...summer-ner?"

"The correct pronunciation is 'summoner', young lord. And a summoner is someone who can call forth spirits from a different plane of existence to fight for them."

"Oh. Why did you call me 'young lord'?"

The goblin sighed in aggravation. "That is because, young lord, the summoner race is above the goblins in the hierarchy. And before you ask, the hierarchy is a listing of the various magical races, and each race is awarded a position based upon their power and various other factors. It was last updated two hundred years ago, when demons were elevated to a higher rank than angels. They've been gloating about it ever since."

"Oh. Where do humans fall on the hierarchy?"

"Why do you think we all treat humans with such contempt? They are at the very bottom of the list, the weakest of all magical races. The Nargles could wipe them out, and they are a pacifistic race, for Exodus' sake! Incidentally, the power requirement is based on average magical power across the entire race, so the fact that you are part human will drag their average up a little. Of course, since you appear to be a part of every race, that won't matter much in the long run."

Harry's head was beginning to hurt from the information he was being given. "Ok, so, I need a focus for my summoning magic, don't I?"

"Indeed you do, young lord. Come, I shall have one of our foci-crafters make you your staff."

Harry trailed along after the goblin, who had taken off down the corridor even further, leaving Hagrid to plod along behind them, his new owl and her cage held in one hand. The second goblin removed the testing apparatus, and locked the room behind him. Unknown to all four, a small beetle crawled out through the keyhole, and flew back down the hall, slipping out through the hidden doors when a third goblin opened them, and buzzing off towards the Daily Prophet building.

* * *

A/N: So, yay or nay? Should I continue? Or should this story never have been summoned? Leave a review, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't updated in a while, mainly because my birthday came around, then I managed to spill boiling water over my hands, but I'm now able to type once again, so I'm back to write this story once again! Disclaimer as standard, nothing you recognize belongs to me.

* * *

Harry, Hagrid and the owl - he really needed to think of a name for that owl, Harry thought - descended into the heart of Gringotts on one of the carts. Harry had offered to let Hagrid stay behind, but the giant man had said he needed to make sure Harry was safe, so all three of them were making their way towards the goblin focus-crafter's smithy.

"Master Rockgrinder? A youngling has come to us to recieve their first focus."

The leathery-skinned goblin who had been bashing metal on an anvil straightened up to his full height - he was only barely taller than Harry, who was himself a rather unimpressive 3'9" - and turned to look at the group.

"Very well. Since it is not immediately obvious to me, what races have you inherited from, boy?"

Harry flinched backwards slightly at the gruff tone the goblin was using. "Umm...well, human and..."

"Human and _summoner_, Rockgrinder. Show the appropriate respect."

Rockgrinder's skin took on an odd greenish tinge, and he immediately began stuttering. "M-my apologies, y-young lord. I-I had not r-realized..."

"Um, it's okay."

The goblin that had escorted them to the smithy looked at Harry like he had grown a second head. "Young lord, you do realize that you outrank the Emperor of our nation, don't you?"

Harry blinked. "I do? Why? I mean, I don't know anything about magic, so how can I outrank anyone?"

"It doesn't refer to actual experience, moreso the respect you are entitled to from other races. We are not required to like you, but we are expected to show appropriate respect to a member of any race above our own in the rankings."

"Oh. Ok then. So, what do I need to do about this focus thing?"

Rockgrinder jumped back into the conversation. "I simply need you to stand over inside this circle, young lord. After that, I will be able to do everything. It should take approximately one hour."

"Only an hour? I thought you were making it from the beginning?"

"Ah, I see where you became confused. I meant that it would take one hour for the scanning circle to completely scan every aspect of your body, including magic, mind, and soul."

"Oh. Wait, you mean I need to stand in that circle for an hour?!"

"Yes, but don't worry. If there are any anomalies, the circle automatically compensates for them. Now, for the more cosmetic aspects of your focus. What shape would you prefer it to take?"

"Shape? I thought it was some sort of staff?"

"Well, that is traditional. Lady Yuna did opt for that, after all. However, other summoners have chosen alternate focus forms. For example, one young lady by the name of Rydia chose to have her focus take the form of a whip. I have heard of others who used guns, swords, even gunblades, as their foci. In the end, it all comes down to convenience. It mostly depends on which style of fighting the summoner is most familiar with. So, what will it be?"

"Just the staff, I think. I don't really know how to fight."

Both goblins blinked in confusion. "Don't know how to fight? Every child should know at least one form before they turn eleven, even if it is only the basics!"

Rockgrinder grumbled to himself, while the first goblin narrowed his eyes. "Damn humans. No idea how to raise children whatsoever. Bunch of tor'quidalos."

Harry blinked at the unfamiliar word, but judging by Hagrid's blush, he probably didn't want to know the translation. Stepping into the rather elaborately patterned circle that Rockgrinder pointed to, he prepared for a long, boring wait. And was thus surprised when his vision blurred slightly, before coming back into focus as Rockgrinder said, "That's you done, lad. You can step out of the circle now."

"But I only just stepped in. You said it took an hour."

"What? Oh, by Odin's lance. I forgot to mention that the circle knocks you unconscious while it scans you, didn't I? Ah well, no sense standing around. Now, let's have a look at the ingredients for your focus, shall we?" Turning to an odd device that seemed to be a computer made out of rocks, Rockgrinder tore off a sheet of paper and started poring over it, occasionally grunting or muttering to himself.

"Well, this all seems fairly easy to put together. Though the metal, stone, and core combination is an odd one, certainly. Also, I know it is none of my business, but might I inquire as to whom you cared so deeply about as to protect them by means of a soul-leech?"

"Soul-leech? What's that?"

Rockgrinder and their goblin escort traded glances, before turning back to Harry, who had glanced at Hagrid in that time, receiving a shrug of confusion in return. "Mr Potter, a soul-leech is a magical occurence, normally created willingly to protect someone. When it is formed, the leech will take a small amount of your power and use it to sustain the life of whoever is linked to you via the leech. However, if you had no knowledge of this leech...?"

"Um, until last night, I didn't even know magic was real, sir."

Rockgrinder blinked, before gathering his thoughts. "Very well. Normally, it would be considered an honour, that someone meant so much to you that you were willing to do this for them. However, to have this soul-leech in place more than three days is considered dangerous. Quite frankly, the last time someone had a leech like this on them unwillingly and unknowingly for more than three days, their magic was drained from them, resulting in a slow, agonizingly painful death. From what the circle showed me, however, you have had this leech active for nearly ten years."

Hagrid jumped out of his chair, his head brushing against the lower points of the ceiling. "Yeh mean tha' was from...You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, given who we are dealing with, and the relative timeframes involved, I'd say that is likely, Rubeus. If that is the case, it is likely that Voldemort is being tethered to life by this very object, unable to die because of a simple magical mistake. For all I know, dispelling the leech may well destroy the last remnants of Voldemort's soul once and for all."

Harry had barely understood half of what the goblins were talkiing about, but this was something he did understand. "If getting rid of this gets rid of Voldemort, then let's do it already!"

"Patience, young lord. The procedure is painless, but it does take quite a while."

"Well, can't you use that circle thingy again?"

Rockgrinder looked like he wanted to cry at Harry's question. "One, it is not a 'thingy', it is a delicate piece of magical equipment. Two, it was designed only to scan, not remove anomalies. However, if you wish this leech removed, we can help you. Free of charge, this time only."

"Really? Thank you, but, why?"

"To allow such an abomination, a forced bond to a man whose sanity was questionable before he created the leech, to continue to supress a child is an affront to any decent living being, not just a goblin. Honour dictates that children should be cherished and protected, and a goblin lives, breathes, and dies by their honour, Mr Potter. Now, if you will follow Hookfang here, he will show you to the healer's quarters. By the time you are done, your focus _should _be crafted. Note that I said should, these components are just as likely to backfire and blow a hole in my roof. Off with you, now. I have work to do."

Harry, Hagrid, the owl, and Hookfang all piled out of the smithy, and began to make their way towards what Harry assumed was the goblin healer's houses.

_**Boy-Who-Lived: Demigod?**_

_You read that right, my dear readers. The goblins at Gringotts Wizarding Bank recently tested the power levels of Harry James Potter, perhaps better known to all of us as the Boy-Who-Lived. And the revelations were startling. Not only is Mr Potter exceedingly powerful in his own right, he has the ability to use magic from any magical creature in existence. And as if that wasn't enough, Mr Potter is also the first Summoner born in Britain in centuries. Many of you will be unaware of just what exactly a summoner is, so here is all the information I was able to find on them._

Apparently, summoners have the ability to call forth great beasts of immense power, known as 'summons'. They have also been referred to as 'Guardian Forces', but the most commonly used term is 'eidolons'. These 'eidolons' hold power far in excess of what is safe for the human body to wield in it's own right, but as the eidolon has it's own body, it allows the summoner to use magical powers they normally would be incapable of. Various eidolons exist, most of which are tied to an element of nature - fire, water, etc. Summoners were believed to have been wiped out during the Great Magical War, in 780B.M. It seems, however, that some trickle of their power remains in Mr Potter.

But does this portend good things, or will it merely echo the destruction from the Great War? This reporter promises not to rest until every stone has been turned over, and every secret revealed. The Daily Prophet is seeking an interview with Mr Potter as you read this paper, to hear from the young man himself, as to how he thinks this will affect his life.

Until then, my loyal readers, I remain your stylish and witty crusader for the truth,

Rita Skeeter

Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he reread the paper. Potter was a summoner? Was that how he had vanquished the Dark Lord ten years ago? And if so, how would the Dark Lord be able to counter such power, should he find a way to return? Lucius headed for his study. His forty-seven-times-great grandfather had fought the summoner dogs in the Great War, perhaps his journal would explain how they won then. After all, if the Dark Lord ever returned, having a way to defeat his Master's new nemesis at hand would surely smooth any ruffled feathers, right?

Passing by Narcissa and Draco, not even pausing to pretend to care when his son showed him his new wand - for the thirtieth time since he got the Mordred-forsaken thing, damn it! - and treading up the stairs, kicking the house-elf out the way as he passed by it, Lucius entered his study, snapping out an order to the elf that no one was to interrupt him on his way, and began searching the bookshelves, thanking Jenova for preservation charms as he did so.

Finally finding the correct book, Lucius went through the usual rituals to open it - a drop of blood on each corner of the front cover, then three on the emblem in the center - and began reading, flipping through until he came to the right section. A calculating smirk stretched it's way over his face as he read, and the house-elves in the manor shivered as they felt their master's dark glee wash over them.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline in surprise as he read that morning's Daily Prophet. Harry was a summoner? That was certainly unexpected. Minerva was looking rather shell-shocked herself, he noted. Probably trying to figure out which parent had summoner blood, he thought to himself. As for Severus, well, the man had his usual frown on. 'Honestly,' Albus thought to himself, 'would it really kill the man to smile now and then?'

The rest of the staff had expressions ranging from mild disbelief - Rolanda - to barely contained glee - Filius. Albus could certainly empathise with Filius' plight. It had been difficult enough for Filius to get a job in Britain, far less a prestigious teaching job at Hogwarts. Having the so-called 'Saviour of Magical Britain' turn out to have some non-human blood in him might well convince the Ministry to give non-human magicals in Britain some extra rights in society. How this would affect the students, he didn't know, though it certainly explained why Hagrid had sent a note via Gringotts owl, saying they had been held up for quite a while. From what he had said, there had been some kind of soul-leech discovered in Harry's scar.

Albus thought back to that night, in 1981 - by the Muggle calendar, at least - when he had discovered that leech. He had been touched at the time, believing it to be part of the sacrificial protection Lily Potter had used on her son. He had foolishly assumed that the leech was reversed, and that Lily had fed her own soul's last moments of strength into her son's through the leech, to save him, thus activating the protection. Now, though, he wasn't so sure. From what Hagrid had said, the goblin's scanning equipment had detected traces of Lord Voldemort, not Lily Potter, inside the soul-leech. Albus had immediately written back, authorising the removal procedure. If only he had known years ago. If only he hadn't fallen into the trap of believing he knew best, like the rest of Britain always said. Who knew what damage had been done to young Harry's magical core? He could only hope the damage wasn't permanent.

'Lily, James, I am so sorry. Please, forgive this old man's foolish mistakes.'

* * *

General Sephiroth Crescent stood between his two friends - though no one would really use such a term to describe the three of them - at parade rest as Director Lazard typed away on his computer. Beside him, he knew that one of the other men in the room would be standing just as stiffly as he was, while the other would be flexing the fingers of his left hand - a nervous tick that he had noticed during their third mission together.

"General. Commanders."

"Director." Three different voices spoke as one. A little disconcerting for anyone listening.

"You have been assigned light duties for a period of ten months. You will be guarding a valuable magical artifact, and potentially providing a protection detail for a highly valuable asset."

Translation - guard dog duty.

"Any particular reason for this? I thought we were supposed to be fighting in Wutai this month."

"President Shinra has decided that it is best for you to garner good publicity for the company outside of Gaia, in the hopes of attracting more new recruits to the Shinra army, and potentially SOLDIER."

"Fine, so who are we guarding? I wanna get this over with already."

"The principal's name is Harry Potter. He's something of a local hero over there. Stopped some psycho magical terrorist or something. The item you'll be guarding is the Philosopher's Stone. Incidentally, Angeal, I'd suggest you take Fair along with you. You'll need someone who can be approachable to the students, and let's face it, none of you are exactly the cute and cuddly type."

"Acknowledged, Director. When do we leave?"

"0700 hours. Tomorrow. Get some shuteye while you can, you three. In a few days time, you'll have ten months of snot-nosed, whiny little brats to look forward to. Dismissed."

Snapping off a salute in perfect unison, the three SOLDIERs headed for the door, Angeal mentally listing every plant he knew - Spehiroth had once asked him how he relaxed before a mission. Angeal's answer had surprised and amused him. Genesis' fingers on both hands were twitching violently - a sure sign that he was a few seconds away from incinerating something - and Sephiroth was fairly certain his hair was blowing in some mysterious wind that would have no explainable source whatsoever. Zack bounded over to them, alreandy shouting questions at a rate of twenty per second. Angeal began to actually list the plants out loud, the wind around Sephiroth's hair got stronger, and Genesis shot a fireball into the laser printer opposite the secretary's desk.

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A/N: There's chapter two. A few revelations, a few introductions, and so on. Also, a reason for the Shinra Elites to be at Hogwarts? What witchcraft and devilry is this? Also, just a thought, but I think Angeal and Neville seem quite alike. They're both unassuming by nature, both seem to love plants, and they both have these totally badass moments every now and again. Anyone else thinking the same? Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It's been a while, but the muse has returned. As always, I don't own anything.

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Harry was sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, reading a book the goblins had given him on summoning while his staff rested beside him. Hedwig - the owl Hagrid had bought him; he had found the name when reading about famous Swedish summoners - was sitting on his shoulder, preening his hair as if it were feathers. So far, he had only tried a small amount of summoning, and had only succeeded once, when he summoned an Eidolon called Carbuncle. Apparently, every summoner had what was known as a 'primary Eidolon', which would then help them with their training. Carbuncle was a healing eidolon, with very few actual attacks to speak of. It's strength was in supporting it's allies and healing them, rather than actual fighting.

_"When is this train going to arrive?"_

"I don't know, Carbuncle. I know we get there in time for dinner though. Ow! Hedwig, what was that for?"

Hedwig had just nipped Harry's left ear. When he turned his head to shake her away, he realized why she had done it. Several students had gathered around his compartment while he was talking to Carbuncle, and were now staring at him. Even as he looked, muttering and whispers broke out amongst the watching students.

"What's he doing?"

"Who's he talking to?"

"Probably crazy. Let's stay away."

Flinching slightly, Harry tried to figure out what to say, but was saved from this first bout of social awkwardness by the arrival of a loud, spiky-haired person.

"Hey, what's the holdup? We need past, munchkins!"

The students congregating in the corridor of the train scattered, and a young man with spiky black hair and a purple sweater looked in. "You Harry Potter?"

"Y-yes."

"Good." Poking his head back out, he yelled loud enough to wake the dead, "FOUND HIM!"

Hedwig launched herself at him, flapping her wings and screeching as she clawed at the man's head. Another three men, all older than the first, stepped into Harry's view. They were definitely an odd bunch; the tallest had waist-length silver hair, and wore a black leather trenchcoat. The man to his right had red hair and a red trenchcoat, and the third looked like he could be the spiky haired man's father. The tallest of the four stepped forward, casually knocking Hedwig's claws out of his way.

"My name is General Sephiroth Crescent. This is Commander Genesis Rhapsodos, Commander Angeal Hewley, and Liuetenant Zack Fair. We have been assigned to guard you from harm during the school year. Myself and the Commanders will be patrolling the train. Liuetenant Fair will be remaining here. Should there be an emergency, he will be able to contact us."

With that, the three newcomers turned and exited the compartment, leaving Harry, Hedwig, and Zack alone. "So, kiddo. Don't mind Seph, he's always like that. Actually, I think he likes you. He's usually much worse."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. I think your owl helped. A familiar having the courage to attack him to defend you is impressive. Not much would dare to attack Sephiroth anymore."

"Oh. Is he really that strong?"

"Is he-? Kid, he once took on half the Wutain army alone. He was the only one to walk away uninjured from that battle."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So, you lot can use magic without materia, huh? Sounds weird, honestly."

"What's 'materia'?"

"It's a kind of crystal that can be used to use magic. I didn't really pay much attention when they explained it in training. It works, it lets me use magic, and that's all I'll ever need to know about it. Genesis could probably tell you more. He's the group's Materia expert."

"Oh. Wait, so you don't actually have magic? How can you see the train? The book I read says it should be invisible to people without magic."

"No idea. I'm not really the most...studious person around. Again, Genesis knows the most about magic. He'd probably have at least a theory about it. Anyway, I hear you're a summoner?"

"Um, yes. I don't really know too much, though. I've only ever managed to perform a summon once."

"Sweet. So, you met your primary Eidolon then? Should get easier. Only problem is, most Eidolons won't fight for you unless you can gain their respect. There's a few that will, but they're pretty rare. I've got a girlfriend back home who's a summoner. Well, she's also what you'd call a Healer, but back home we can all cast multiple kinds of magic."

"Really? Do you think she'd be able to help teach me about summoning? I've only managed to summon Carbuncle, but I want to learn more about it."

"Well, I can send her an email and ask. She'll probably try and help even if she doesn't know how. Aerith's sweet like that."

From there, the two spent the rest of the journey to Hogwarts chatting back and forth, Zack borrowing one of Harry's schoolbooks and testing him on it from time to time.

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"Potter, Harry."

Immediately, whispers and muttering sprang up all through the Great Hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Nervously, Harry walked up to the three legged stool on which the Sorting Hat rested, all too aware of the eyes of everyone in the hall on him, and desperately wishing Hedwig had been allowed to stay with him during the feast. Sitting on the stool, Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head and stepped back. The hat had been made for an adult's head, and so slipped down so Harry's eyes were covered. A new voice, rough and gravelly and distinctly male, sounded through Harry's head.

_"So, you're the new summoner that's got everyone in a tizzy. Especially Dumbledore. Doesn't seem to know which way is up anymore. Now, let's see...yes, a certain strength of character. Intelligent, though it's been supressed after years with those animals you call relatives. Loyal, but only to those you feel deserve loyalty. You certainly are willing to work hard to get what you want, and there's ambition, most definitely. A thirst, to prove yourself to everyone, to prove that you belong here. And bravery, oh my yes. It takes more bravery than most people are capable of conceiving of to keep going in spite of all you have endured. Hmm. This is difficult indeed. I wonder though...do you have any personal preference?"_

_"I just...I just want to fit in and make friends, sir."_

_"Hmm. Well, I'll tell you right now, you'll never perfectly fit in, because everybody is different. You are unique, and that is something to be proud of, not to be supress__ed. But to make friends? That you can do. Be yourself, though, so that people can truly be your friends. There is no point in having friends if they are only friends with a mask you wear. Hmm. No, I think I know exactly where you belong, Mr Potter. Never lose sight of who you truly are, in GRYFFINDOR!"_

The entire hall exploded with cheering from the Gryffindor table, with two redheaded twins jumping onto the table and shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" to the entire hall. Professor McGonagall smiled kindly at him as she lifted the hat off his head and shooed him along to his new House's table. The Headmaster smiled at him as he went, a twinkle in the man's eye as he lifted his goblet in a toast to Harry. Not everyone seemed happy, however. A black-haired man in all-black robes seemed to have a cross between a sneer and a scowl on his face as he glared at Harry, and the Slytherin table was practically radiating hostility.

Harry took the seat offered to him by an older girl who introduced herself as Katie Bell, and watched the rest of the Sorting ceremony. Once the last student had been sorted - Blaise Zabini to Slytherin - Dumbledore stood up and made his welcoming sppech. Most of it was common sense - don't go in the 'Forbidden' Forest, for example - and introducing the people Harry had met on the train - apparently they were the 'Shinra Elites', whatever that meant - though the bit at the end about the third floor corridor on the right hand side containing something guaranteed to cause 'a most painful death' startled him. Harry made a mental note to avoid that corridor at all costs.

Finally, the announcements were finished, the feast was eaten; Harry had never seen so much food, and the house prefects were showing them the way to Gryffindor Tower. Percy Weasley was, in Harry's opinion, a bit full of himself. His Uncle Vernon had once called a politician on tv a 'bloated windbag who can't shut up about himself'. Harry thought the description seemed to apply to Percy just as easily. When they finally made it to Gryffindor Tower, however, things perked up. The second Percy walked through the portrait hole, the two redheads from earlier tipped over a huge bucket of fish guts over the prefect's head.

"Fred! George! Get back here this instant!"

With Percy racing around the tower trying to catch what appeared now to be his brothers, the female prefect, Elaine Dunbar, took over and explained a bit more about Gryffindor and Hogwarts, before shooing them all off to bed. Tucked up under the covers, Harry thought back to a week ago, when he hadn't even known magic existed. It was odd, he mused, that so much could happen in such a short space of time, and to someone like him. A week ago, he had been telling himself he only had seven more years before he would be free of the Dursleys. Today, he was free of them for nearly ten months a year, and only had to live with them for six more summers. It was a good discovery, he decided, before rolling over and falling asleep.

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A/N: The first scenes of Harry at Hogwarts, and things are going to kick off soon. Hope you enjoyed, and please remember to review!


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